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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23695627">human again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottenstrawberrymilk/pseuds/rottenstrawberrymilk'>rottenstrawberrymilk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Borderlands (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Consensual, Consensual Sex, Crushes, F/M, Healing, Healing Sex, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, NSFW, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Recovery, Smut, Trauma, Trust Issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:06:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23695627</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottenstrawberrymilk/pseuds/rottenstrawberrymilk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>dr zed blanco x reader short story</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zed Blanco/Reader, Zed Blanco/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. come back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>         It wasn't easy going through what happened to you. It wasn't easy living with it, knowing it, remembering it.</p><p>        It wasn't fair what happened to you.</p><p>        Traveling in groups was supposed to keep you safe on Pandora. The more people with you, the more power and less of a chance of you getting targeted and dragged off or killed. Whether it be by bandits, or skags, or whatever happened to be native in the area. Unfortunately, it wasn't completely foolproof as a tactic. People were still killed. People were still picked off. You'd never imagined you'd be one of them. It'd been something you imagined to inspire the fear that kept you going. The fear the encouraged you to run more, pull the trigger faster, fight harder. </p><p>        But it wasn't enough.</p><p>        Bandits took you. There'd been eight, maybe more of them. You couldn't have fought them off on your own, even if they hadn't quickly disarmed you and basically beat you into near unconsciousness. You knew they weren't going to kill you. If they wanted you dead, they would have shot you when they first attacked your caravan. No, you knew what was in store for you. And it made you wish they had shot you.</p><p>        You'd been strong at first. Or at least you tried to be. You were hellbent on the idea of someone, anyone, coming to liberate you and the other few unlucky enough to be enslaved rather than killed. You used to fight when they'd grab you by the arm, fingers and nails so tight in on your skin it left bruises for days after. You used to kick and scream, even with a gun to your head when they had their way with you. But there was only so many times you could keep it up. As days and nights passed with no sign of anyone coming for you, the hope in you died. The bandits liked watching it wither away. The sick individuals out of the group who favored you the most were almost proud of breaking you. </p><p>        But the bright side of breaking was you didn't have to fight anymore. </p><p>        It'd been exhausting to fight. </p><p>        They passed you around for awhile. From group to group. Like currency, almost. High valued currency, apparently, judging by how much negotiating took place over who would ultimately end up owning your body. You were a toy for them. A good looking, clean toy with no missing limbs or disfiguring scars. Only minor scars chains or restraints or thin blades left on your arms and legs and back. Already broken in and tamed and domesticated like a dog. Like a blank canvas for them to destroy all over again. </p><p>        You once lived in a desert.</p><p>        Now you were in an icy wasteland. </p><p>        You couldn't remember the amount of times you'd been traded around Pandora. Maybe twelve. Thirteen? Your brain felt foggy all the time. Often times you were zoned out. Maybe it was to help you cope. Maybe to offer you some sort of safety blanket to get away from what was happening to you every day. As time went on, you grew desensitized to it all. And you hated it.</p><p>        You hated that you couldn't feel anger like you wanted to. You wanted to feel that wrath in you again. You thought it would give you power again. Control. That's all you wanted. Control over your body again. Control over your life. There wasn't a day that passed where you thought of your life before all this. The life where you'd taken everything for granted. Your freedom, your time, your control, your ability to decide. It was all gone. And although you'd been numb for months, that still hurt you. Every fucking time. </p><p>        At some point, you knew you'd tried to remember the names and faces of the bandits who you'd see the most. The ones that liked fucking you the most. You remembered swearing you'd come for them the minute you were free. You remembered daydreaming of hunting them down. But whatever names they had and whatever features distinguished them were long forgotten. They were all just a blur to you. They all looked the same. All wanted the same thing. Repetitive. Draining. </p><p>        You thought that at least things couldn't get worse. You'd been through hell, after all.</p><p>        But you were wrong. </p><p>         You'd been through hell, but only the first few circles.</p><p>        You came to this realization after the bandit camp you'd been at for a couple of weeks was raided by another group. They'd brought you to a massive ship. You thought then that maybe you'd be saved. How wrong you were. Maybe that made everything sting even more. The ship belonged to their leader, some big jackass named Captain Flynt.  </p><p>        He took a bit of a shine to you. </p><p>        You'd felt special at first when he'd killed three of his own men-- the ones to throw you at his feet. He'd declared it was punishment for touching you. You thought maybe this one was different. This one was going to protect you from the men who wanted you. But your hopes had deluded you heavily. He was no different from them. He just had more power. He was just more unhinged. More possessive and jealous and monstrous. </p><p>        His words when he'd first grabbed your thighs and started to spread your legs still haunted you, still lived in your mind.  </p><p>        "You're all mine." </p><p>        When you closed your eyes you could still see burning red eyes behind a mask. Your own personal hell.</p><p>        Captain Flynt made it clear to you that you weren't just a fuck toy, you were <em>his</em> personal fuck toy and no one else's and he'd kill whoever felt otherwise. He kept you locked up with all the loot on the ship, like a treasure. When you weren't locked up, you were on his lap, one of his arms tight around your waist, holding you. He was showing off to his men, obviously. Tempting them with something they knew was forbidden for them and available at any time to Flynt. In the strangest way, you thought that would have given you more value. You thought it would have given him more of a reason to keep himself from hurting you <em>too</em> badly. You could put up with a bit of roughness. You'd guessed wrong on that too. You had no idea what was in store for you.</p><p>        Turns out Flynt was a big fan of torturing you. You didn't know if it was a kink or a hobby or what, but what you did know was that it hurt <em>a lot</em>. He liked tormenting you whenever he could. Whether it was choking you into unconsciousness or smashing you into floors and walls, he seemed to revel in finding ways to make you writhe and scream and cry out. His favorite? Burning you when he was fucking you.</p><p>        His hand and fingerprints were permanently burned and scarred into your skin--your hips and your thighs and your waist and chest. He even fucking branded his name right above your ass. </p><p>
  <strong>        F L Y N T</strong>
</p><p>        Those letters would be there for the rest of your life.</p><p>        He made that clear to you when he growled into your ear, one foot pinning your legs to the ground, one hand binding your wrists behind your back and the other hand wrapped around the branding stick. You'd been surprised looking back that you were able to hear his gravelly voice over the sound of your own screams and sobs. </p><p>        You thought this was your life now. This was it. Until he killed you--whether it be on purpose or accident. You thought it would be a month or two before he go bored enough to push you that far. So all you could really do was wait. You didn't mind. You'd lost the will to fight a long, long time ago. </p><p>        It was maybe the first actual decision you'd made in a long time.</p><p>        Giving up completely. </p><p>        He broke you worse than any bandit or marauder or psycho before. He hurt you worse, and not just by breaking your bones and burning your skin. He ruined you totally. There was nothing left. You thought you were far beyond repair. And that made you sure there was no such thing as a future with you living free and happy in it anyways. You could never be happy after all this. Freedom couldn't make you happy anymore. You didn't want it. There was no way to ever come back from something this horrific. </p><p>        So it was easy to say you went into complete shock when a vault hunter finally came along and killed Flynt and slaughtered every last one of his men. You couldn't even have the simple satisfaction of being happy Flynt was dead. All you felt was a sort of emptiness. The vault hunter and their little robot companion had freed you as you had stared silently at the body of Flynt. You couldn't find the words to speak. Everything felt wrong. Unreal. </p><p>        You could have never imagined this happening.</p><p>        You didn't know what to do next. You didn't know what to do with yourself.</p><p>        Fortunately, what you were lacking in words and common sense, the vault hunter seemed to make up for. They ended up escorting you back to the small, ruined village in Liar's Berg, where a tall Englishman was waiting. At first, you'd panicked internally, thinking that you were about to be traded off once more, to someone even worse if the recent trend continued. But then, the man introduced himself to you as Sir Hammerlock and had extended a polite, friendly hand towards you. Hesitantly, you had taken it, shaking suddenly and uncontrollably. It was strange to be touched in a way that wasn't hurting. It was foreign but...it was enough for you to understand that Hammerlock meant no harm towards you. For the time being.</p><p>        The weight on your chest seemed to lift just a little and you stood taller. </p><p>        It was over. At least for now.</p><p>        Even if something happened and you were thrust back into the trafficking ring by some misfortune, you could at least have this. A break. A much-deserved, desperately needed break. </p><p>        Apparently, the relief had been visible in your face.</p><p>        "You've been through hell haven't you?" he asked gently after the vault hunter and his robot had parted ways with the both of you.</p><p>        All you could do was lightly nod, letting out a shaky exhale. The pity was clear in his remaining eye. He gave your hand a bit of a squeeze.</p><p>        "Well, you're safe now. And you'll be safer yet, my dear. For tomorrow, we'll set out for Sanctuary. It's a safe-haven. I do believe it'll be quite to your liking. But for now, you look a little worse for the wear. I believe a bit of rest and some water would be in your best interest, don't you think?"</p><p>        You'd given him another small nod, suddenly realizing just how exhausted the journey down from the ship had rendered you. Hammerlock accompanied you to a small, relatively undamaged house behind an open, deactivated electric fence. You weren't sure how you felt upon noticing it. Safer, maybe, if you trusted Hammerlock all the way. Which you didn't. An electric fence could be used to keep things out. But it could be used to keep you in as well. A chill ran through your body and your muscles stiffened slightly. </p><p>        Hammerlock seemed rather observant of your discomfort and sudden unease as he opened the front door to let you in. He offered a few more words to you, obviously hoping they'd bring a bit of comfort as you sat down upon the bed, worn from age. It was the first real bed you'd been on since you were first captured and enslaved all that time ago. Your eyes teared up a little. There was the slightest pain in your chest. </p><p>        "There's a doctor of, well, some sorts in Sanctuary," Hammerlock told you as he pulled a chair from the wall to sit on at the bedside. "I noticed your limp on the way in. I'll bet he can fix that right up. He can help with your burns as well. You may have heard of him before--he goes by the name 'Dr. Zed'."</p><p>        Hesitantly, you'd laid your head upon the pillow of the bed, your fingers tight upon the sheets. Your anxiety was only growing. </p><p>        Hammerlock leaned a bit forwards. He went to put a good natured, sympathetic hand on your shoulder. You flinched violently at his sudden moves and he quickly pulled back, offering you a quick apology. "Sorry, sorry. I...had no idea whatever happened to you up there was that bad...And I understand that it's hard but, all I ask for right now is your trust. I have no intent of hurting you or deceiving you. I simply want to get you safe to Sanctuary where you can get your wounds tended to." He pulled a small, metal flask from his side and offered it to you, slowing his motions purposefully. "If it helps at all, I have a bit of whiskey. I think it shall ease you into a good, much-needed sleep." </p><p>        You took it from him cautiously, twisting off the cap and giving it a bit of a sniff before taking a few swigs. It burned going down, but you did feel a bit better. You gave the flask back to Hammerlock and turned to your other side, your hazy gaze locked on the wall. You were weary all over again and discovered quickly that Hammerlock was correct in his recommendation for you to rest. </p><p>        Slowly, you drifted into one of your first ever slumbers that wasn't induced through being knocked unconscious or fucked and tortured into exhaustion.</p><p>         And it felt good. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. safe now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>        Hammerlock had you up early in the morning. He told you he wanted to make it to Sanctuary before sundown. You felt somewhat safe with him wielding his hunting rifle. He gave you a cloak to cover yourself better with (it was easy to say your clothes weren't in great shape either after months, maybe years of being enslaved). You knew it was a matter of modesty, even if Hammerlock told you it was to protect your heavily damaged skin from the harsh sun. He also offered you a pistol, which you gladly took. It felt almost natural to be armed again. Especially if Sir Hammerlock wasn't who he made himself out to be and ended up worse than Flynt. You still didn't trust him all the way, even if you had made it through the night just fine. </p><p>        Luckily, during the journey you didn't have to turn your pistol upon him. Only on the stray skags or rakks that happened to be in the way. Getting into the doors of Sanctuary didn't seem as hard as it should have been--probably because of Hammerlock's standing with the Crimson Raiders who controlled the city. </p><p>        Hammerlock helped you to Dr. Zed's base of operations, your arm over his shoulder. You hadn't wanted to touch him or be touched or depend on him, as he'd already done so much for you already. Unfortunately, your limp had come back and worsened to the point where you didn't have much of a choice. You were extremely exhausted all on top of that. </p><p>        Eventually, Hammerlock got you into Dr. Zed's place. From the doorway where you clung to Hammerlock, you caught sight of the doctor himself. You'd seen faded logos on his machines in bandit camps, but they didn't really do him justice. He was a lot bigger and taller than you imagined, with strong shoulders and a broad back. When he'd turned around from whatever patient he was working on, you were caught in his piercing gaze. A sort of anxiety overcame you. </p><p>        "Doctor," Hammerlock greeted him before inclining his head in your direction, shifting Zed's attention on you once more. "I do believe I have a patient here in dire need of your assistance." </p><p>        "Well, put 'er down somewhere. Let's see the damage." </p><p>        Hammerlock helped you over to an open examination table, recently cleaned. It stood out pretty well against bloodstained walls and floors. You put some of your weight on Hammerlock in order to climb up onto it, your hands beginning to tremble slightly. Dr. Zed approached you--a little too fast for your comfort. </p><p>        "I'll take it from here," the doctor told Hammerlock. "Don't want you standin' in my light." </p><p>        Hammerlock cast a sideways glance over to you. Was he checking to see if you were okay with him leaving? At the moment, it didn't seem like a bad idea. Less men in the room meant less men to fight if things went south. You gave him a soft nod of approval, your fingers curling into fists against the metal of the table. Rifle in hand, Hammerlock turned away and left, bidding you and the doctor goodbye as he went. A sigh of relief would have left you if your attention wasn't immediately on the larger man in front of you. </p><p>        You got a better look at him now that he was closer. There seemed to be a sort of natural, raw strength in his coarsely haired forearms. Silver streaks in his hair indicated his age, maybe a decade older than you or more--it was hard to tell with the mask over his face. In his eyes, there was a sort of new warmth that had been missing the first time he looked at you. And pity. There was always pity when someone looked at you. That was going to get irritating soon. </p><p>        "If you don't mind, I'd like to remove the cloak you've got 'round your body there. Need to see what I'm workin' with," Zed told you, his gruff voice strangely gentle behind his mask.</p><p>        You definitely didn't expect this kind of treatment from a man covered in blood who seemed to be just finishing up torturing whoever was strapped to the bed across the room. Your gaze snapped away from the body across the room, apparently unconscious for now when the doctor's hand went towards your neck. The body across the room suddenly seized and started shrieking. It was a psycho on the table. You recognized the way they screamed after being around them so long. There was too much noise and too much motion and everything was happening at once. Your old instincts kicked back in. </p><p>        In a flash, you had your gun pointed at Zed, then at the body, then at Zed again. You couldn't figure out who was more of a threat. Who was going to hurt you worse. The doctor was closer. Your aim steadied on him. Your arm was shaking badly and your breath caught in your throat. Zed was motionless.</p><p>        “Please don’t touch me,” you said hoarsely and quietly. You flinched, even though you were the one with the weapon in hand.</p><p>        “I’m not gonna hurt’cha,” Zed said softly, raising his arms slightly, palms up, facing you. You looked scared. Real scared. The last thing he wanted to do was spook you anymore than he apparently already was. </p><p>        You shook your head briskly, wrapping your scarred arms around yourself tightly. Even with your aim off him, Zed didn't dare make a move.  All Zed could tell from simply looking at you was that they were severe burn scars. </p><p>        "D-don't," you managed. You realized you hadn't actually tried to speak normally outside of crying or screaming in a very long time. Upon realizing he was observing you, looking at what revealed skin he could, you quickly put the gun back on him. Why was he looking at you so intensely? Why was he doing that? What was he going to do? Was he still going to try and touch you? </p><p>        Your thoughts wouldn't stop racing, your head wouldn't stop spinning, and the gun wouldn't stay steady in your hand.</p><p>        "Easy there, darlin'," Zed coaxed, his words slow. "You don't want to shoot me. I'm going to help you. That's all."</p><p>        You flinched violently when the psycho started shrieking on the table again from across the bloodied room. The doctor slowly took a step back. He held up a finger. </p><p>        "Pardon me, jus' one moment." </p><p>        Zed turned his back to you, suddenly sweeping the curtain across the room, obscuring your view of the bandit on the table. A strange sort of exhaustion swept over you as you bit back tears and fell to the examination table completely, staring up at the rusting metal ceiling. Your hand was still tight around your gun, on top of your chest, stiff and waiting. The psycho's screams faded to the back of your mind. </p><p>        Just like they used to when you were back in bandit camps. They screamed constantly there. It was all you'd hear when bandit hands were on your body. Even over your own cries and screams you could hear them. Day and night. Never ending shrieking. Your mind felt suddenly foggy again and some tears numbly escaped the corners of your eyes. </p><p>        All the sudden there was the sound of a blade slicing and the shouting stopped abruptly. </p><p>        It was all quiet again. </p><p>        Your fingers bunched up some of the cloak and wrapped it closer around your body. You couldn't stop shaking. It wasn't even cold. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to breathe again. You'd been holding your breath apparently without realizing. And your heart wouldn't stop pounding in your chest. </p><p>        The sound of sliding metal rings on metal sounded as Zed pushed the curtain back again, before quickly stepping through and pulling it back to its original position. He cleared his throat as he once again approached the examination table. At first he thought you were asleep, up until he saw the tears and your shaking body. And all the sudden he was overcome with a sense that there was something very dark and horrific at play here. It wasn't often that he had treated patients like yourself, much less encountered them. But he knew enough to have a general idea of what might have happened to you. </p><p>        After all, you looked young and pretty and...suitable and it certainly wasn't out of the question for you to have been trafficked. </p><p>        From what Hammerlock had relayed to him from Liar's Berg, Zed knew that you had several intensive burn wounds at risk of infection and needing treatment. He also knew where you had come from--Captain Flynt's own personal quarters. So if not trafficking, certainly torture--Flynt was notorious for that. </p><p>        Zed wondered how long Flynt had his hands on you for. </p><p>        It would have been ideal to treat your wounds immediately, but he didn't want to find himself with a bullet lodged in his skull and he didn't want to make things more stressful for you. He recognized quickly that you were in the middle of an intense panic attack. Treatment could wait until tomorrow when you were more stable. </p><p>        Zed wished he could offer you some sort of sedative to help, but he figured his chances of getting you to take a pill from a stranger was basically zero. He couldn't blame you. He usually didn't have a very calming effect on patients--usually the opposite. It was a wonder how Hammerlock managed to convince you to come to him in the first place. </p><p>        Warily, eyeing the pistol clenched tight in your hand, Zed drew closer. He figured he could try to talk you through the episode the best he could. </p><p>        "Hey there darlin', jus' took care of that lil' ol' noisy problem on the other side. Didn't mind ending that experiment early. Don't think it was goin' nowhere anyhow." </p><p>        His voice brought you back. </p><p>        You blinked open your eyes slowly. Biting the inside of your cheek, you turned over on your side, the gun still in your hands. Your brows furrowed slightly with confusion as your heart began to steady. </p><p>        "Whatever you been through, it's over now, doll. Ain't nobody gonna getcha. Ain't nobody gonna hurt ya anymore. They're gonna have to come through me first. You're safe now. No where's safer in the world than Sanctuary. No bandits. No nothin'."</p><p>        "You don't get it," you managed to choke out, your throat still tight from the tears. "I'm scared of you too." </p><p>        "I figured that. Can't even get close to ya without ya shakin' like a leaf. And that's to be expected. You ain't never known touch that didn't hurt you until just yesterday, isn't that right? Can't blame ya for somethin' like that...that's why I'm not gonna touch ya until you feel comfortable with it all." </p><p>        You turned over and sat up at his slow, soothing words. Your eyes met his. He'd lowered his mask around his neck, exposing his mouth and jaw. Probably an attempt to look less intimidating. It was certainly helping, just a little bit. Zed seemed to be able to tell that it was working. A bit of a smile appeared on his grizzled face. </p><p>        "Now, I don't wanna make you anymore uncomfortable than you already probably are, but...I wouldn't mind if you could hand over your weapon there. It'd certainly make me feel a lil' bit safer here. You've got a fast hand, don't you?" Slowly he reached out a hand. He wasn't trying to directly take it from you. He was trying to give you the choice to put it in his hand. </p><p>        You seemed a little troubled, even if it looked as though you were going to give in and hand it over.</p><p>        "We'll make a deal-" Zed quickly spoke when he saw your face suddenly turn white. Wrong choice of words. "We'll have ourselves a lil' arrangement." No that was worse. Might as well press on. "You hand over the gun, and I'll let you take your time getting adjusted. Long as you want. Free of charge. Although I will admit to you, the sooner the better. Haven't got a clue how long you've got before infection sets in..."</p><p>        Slowly, you placed your pistol in his outstretched hand. He took it, suddenly making it look small in his larger hands. He put it up on a shelf nearby, visible and reachable to you. </p><p>        "There ya go. Puttin' a lil bit of trust in you. Hope you can find it in ya to give me the same sorta courtesy." </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. pretty little face</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>        It took you a few days to come around. Zed kept his promise and made no attempt to touch you. He still talked to you though. Sometimes he rambled while he was working on something, clearly expecting no answer. But you still listened. And before you knew it, you were actually responding to some of his questions. Even though you knew that he had a rough idea of what had happened to you, you found it easier to work through the shame and embarrassment when he talked to you. Zed didn't like to bring it up anymore than you did. And even though he knew you weren't opening up completely to him and you still didn't trust him all the way (something that still wasn't your fault), he found himself growing fond of you. </p><p>        You, in turn, also found yourself growing fond of the doctor. It was the first time in a long time you'd truly liked anyones company. He was easier to talk to by the hour--and he was actually somewhat entertaining. He had endless stories for you about anything and everything. The doctor seemed pleased to have company himself, which was strange, as he struck you as the type of man to be a loner.  </p><p>        You liked him, but the idea of being touched still terrified you. You knew that Zed truly meant you no harm, and honestly did want to help you. But there was something deeply ingrained in you, something that made you so averted to being touched. It was the trauma of course from everything you had gone through. It was irritating and irrational just how sensitive you were to it. But maybe it was something else too. </p><p>        You cared about what Zed thought of you. </p><p>        You didn't want him to see your body. You hadn't had the chance to look into a mirror in a very long time, but you knew that almost all of your body was covered in burn scars in the shapes of finger and handprints. If he saw those, you knew it would only clarify the vague idea he had about what you'd gone through even more. He'd be able to see everywhere Flynt had touched you. Everywhere. </p><p>        And a part of you wasn't ready for that. Maybe it would never be ready on its own.</p><p>        Zed was becoming anxious as days rolled by. He didn't want to rush you, not wanting to backtrack any progress he made with you. But every day that went by where he didn't know what he was dealing with and what he needed to treat, was another day you put yourself more at risk for losing limbs or contracting deadly infections or having broken and fractured bones heal incorrectly.</p><p>        Soon, however, the dull throbbing pain in your body became too much. The irritation of your more recent wounds was also becoming too much to bare as well. </p><p>        "Dr. Zed," you had eventually called out to him. </p><p>        He'd looked up from his tools, which he'd been diligently polishing. He already had a feeling he knew what was coming next. He stepped away from the counter and slowly walked over to the examination table you were sitting upon. </p><p>        "I'm...ready. I'll take off the cloak."  </p><p>        Zed nodded. "Please. Take your sweet time, doll. Ain't no rush."</p><p>        That was a total lie, but one he felt was necessary in this situation. A part of you also acknowledged that he was lying, but you thought it was sweet he was still trying to comfort you. Letting out a deep breath, you reached your hands up to the clasp high up on your throat. Your hands seemed to begin shaking violently again to the point where you cursed under your breath and couldn't quite get the clasp. </p><p>        "Ya mind if I take a crack at it?" Zed asked, leaning closer to you. You found your eyes drifting over his grizzled features for a moment too long before you briskly nodded. </p><p>        His hands went slowly and steady to your neck. Your eyes darted to the shelf he'd settled your pistol upon some days ago. </p><p>        It's fine. It's fine. It's okay. He's not going to hurt me. Zed won't hurt me. I'm okay. It's going to be okay. </p><p>        Zed pulled the cloak away from your body, bunching it up in his strong, capable hands. He put it next to you on the table. The most exposed part of your body was your arms, your throat, the upper area of your chest, and part of your stomach. Some of your leg was exposed through torn pants as well. Zed looked up and down at the burns all along your skin. He knew they extended far beyond the parts of your body that were showing through old, torn clothes. </p><p>        "Gonna have to run into town and grab you a new shirt and some pants, huh? Looks a little worse for the wear, in a manner of speakin'." Zed said to you. </p><p>        You just offered him a bit of a smile. </p><p>        Zed came closer to you. "Gonna check the bones in your arms first, darlin'. Dont'cha get too worried now. Looks normal as far as I can tell, but it's always good to get a bit of a feel, jus' in case." </p><p>        He reached slowly for your arm. Once again, you began to shake. You flinched under his touch, even as he went slow. His hands were warm on your arm as he held it, using his other to check along your joints and muscles. He was...very gentle. Zed felt a warm sense of accomplishment and a bit of a buzz of something else now that he’d finally been able to get his hands on you and actually have a good, clean look over your body. God knows what else might have been afflicting you that he hadn’t been able to get to due to the trauma. Still he couldn't help but notice that you trembled uncontrollably under his touch. Luckily, he understood that it was out of your control, for the time being. He'd explained to you before that the more you were touched and got used to being touched gently again, the less you would shake and feel uncomfortable. Your muscles relaxed, just a little bit, as Zed went to check your other arm. Looks like you were already making a tiny bit of progress. </p><p>        Eventually, Dr. Zed was satisfied with whatever observations he'd made under his breath and he looked back up at you, letting your arm fall from his hand. </p><p>        "They're scarred really bad, darlin'. Not much I can do there. Nothing exceptionally fresh to treat except for some infected cuts here or there... Still gotta make sure that I don't miss nothin'. D'you mind if I-" he suddenly gestured to the hem of your shirt, making a motion as though he wanted to bring it up and pull it off, accompanied with a short, sharp whistle. "Just need to see how far the burns are spread and where they're most in need of treatin'. Gotta check your ribs too to make sure they ain't all broken up." </p><p>        Your scarred arms wrapped insecurely around your body as you averted eye contact with him, your cheeks suddenly heating up. "I...um..."</p><p>        "Might as well get it all out of the way, right? Rather than spread it all out. Get everything dealt with now and you can get outta here even faster." </p><p>        You bit your lip for a moment before slowly nodding, finding some sense in his words. You mouthed a soft 'okay', letting your arms fall away from your chest. Zed's hands grabbed at the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly. You raised your arms to make it easier for him as he stripped the fabric away. You were relieved when he didn't take a moment to stare--he just got right back to work. He seemed concerned about one of the fresher burns, right in the middle of your chest. Flynt had made that one pressing you down into the ground so hard you thought he was going to crack your bones. You were beginning to shake again. Zed noticed your eyes grow foggy.</p><p>        "Almost done," he reassured you. "Just gotta take a look at your back and your legs." </p><p>        Oh. Your back.</p><p>        You held your breath as Zed circled around you. He'd froze where he stood upon seeing it.</p><p>        The brand. </p><p>        F L Y N T</p><p>        It was clear that it had been badly infected some months ago and could still use some treatment. But that was the least of Zed’s concerns. He wondered how it had to feel having your abuser, your rapist’s name permanently scarred on your body forever. Just when he thought he couldn’t pity you anymore...To make things worse, there were hand print markings on top of hand print markings all over your back and neck, like you'd been held down again and again.        </p><p>        It was enough to even chill him. </p><p>        And it made it even harder to ask you his next request. But it had to be done. </p><p>        "Here comes the hardest part, doll. But I'm gonna help you right on through it. It's no big deal really. Happens all the time in here. But...I do need you to take off your pants. I'll turn around if you need it."</p><p>        Surprisingly enough, after taking a moment to process what he said and decide, you nodded your head slowly. The silent 'okay' came from you. Zed pretended like the blush on your face wasn't even there. He turned away from you, which did actually end up helping a lot more than you thought. At first, you figured that there were so many tears and rips in your pants that it wouldn't make any difference whether they were on or off because the doctor would be able to see the scars just the same. Unfortunately you were wrong. Wounds you never even remembered receiving covered your thighs. And of course, more handprints you'd forgotten about, specifically along your ass and thumb prints along your inner thighs. God you were fucked up good.</p><p>        Zed crouched down to get a better look at your ankle first. He gave you a warning before he put his hand to your skin, making sure he was narrating exactly what he was doing. You also found that very helpful and somewhat soothing. It made him feel a lot more predictable. It made him feel a lot more safe. He'd had yet to cause you pain--ow, fuck.</p><p>        "Injured. Real bad. Sprained or fractured maybe. Not broken, I think. Luckily, probably the worst of your internal injuries. External? I'd say its a tie between the nasty gash on your side and the...the marking on your lower back." He stood back up. You noticed his hand had traced up your leg as he returned to his usual stance. And strangely enough, it wasn't enough to send you over the edge. </p><p>        You blinked slowly. Huh.</p><p>        Zed cleared his throat and crossed his arms, leaning back a little. You looked back up at him.</p><p>        "Just trying to figure out if you're in...a good enough, uh, state of mind, to start getting all bandaged up. You did good, doll. Real good. Don't wanna push my luck." </p><p>        "M-Maybe, like, tomorrow. Or throughout the week. I guess. I'm...I'm really tired. A-And I understand the sooner I let you treat me the better but...but I just wanna go to sleep right now. You don't mind right?" It felt easier and easier to talk. At least to him. He'd made himself out to already be very accommodating of your condition and your fragile nerves. </p><p>        Zed nodded. "I understand perfect. Take your time...Don't mind me for now. Gonna make a few, lil' notes of where you need the most attention. Getcha beauty rest, you hear?" </p><p>        You cracked a smile. A real one. For the first time in a very, very long time. Zed's gaze lingered on your face for a moment before he actually turned around to scratch some things down on a clipboard. You turned over on your side, wrapping your cloak around yourself again as you let out a heavy sigh.</p><p>        You didn't want to put your shirt and pants back on, knowing they'd be stripped off again probably the next day. It was a difficult thing to get past after it had happened against your will so many times. It was equally as uncomfortable as being almost naked, but at least you wouldn't have to go through it again and again for however long it would take Zed to treat your wounds. So you figured it was easier just staying in your underwear. It would make it easier for Zed too. You could sense his discomfort in taking off your clothes--something out of the ordinary for a doctor of his status. You didn't want to think it, but you knew it was because Zed knew what your clothes being taken off, no matter how gently, reminded you of.</p><p>        “I couldn’t help but notice—there’s a lotta burn scars all over you, but none on your face...” Zed suddenly said carefully, not sure what reaction he’d invoke. He hadn't originally planned on confronting you about the conundrum. But his sick curiosity had gotten the best of him and he couldn't stop himself. </p><p>        For a moment you were quiet. You tried to find the words to respond. “Flyn-“ you paused, took a hard, shaking breath and swallowed tightly before shaking your head. “He said he didn’t wanna ‘fuck up my pretty, little face’.”</p><p>        Zed was quiet. </p><p>        Eventually, he seemed to find the words to respond. "I'm sorry for what happened t'you."</p><p>        He couldn't see it but you'd began to cry, somewhat silently, something you'd practiced and perfected over the months or years of your life stolen from you. You stayed like that for a few, long minutes that felt like hours. Your fingers clenched tighter against the cloak draped over your body. Eventually, you did fall asleep, your eyes still red from crying. Zed waited till then to layer another blanket on top of your body. He'd noticed you hadn't put your clothes back on--they still laid at the base of the examination table. </p><p>        "Last thing you need is t'catch a cold too," he murmured under his breath, even if he knew you couldn't hear him. "Even goin' through hell like you have don't make you immune to colds..."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. want you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>        Throughout the week, Zed continued to take your treatments step by step. Even if it was something little, like getting one poorly healed slash properly stitched up or having a bandage secured around a burn, or even getting some antibiotics, Zed treated it like it was the biggest thing in the world for you. He guidance and praise was almost excessive in nature. You would have found it annoying, if you didn't find it somewhat endearing above all else. The doctor was using a lot of time for you. But he insisted many times that he didn't mind. </p><p>        Of course, it would have been a helluva lot easier just getting it all done in one day but Zed didn't want to push you to do anything when you grew uncomfortable. He was spending enough time with you to realize when you were starting to spiral or lose yourself, and he hastened to finish treating whichever wound he was on and promptly give you your space. He was afraid of regressing and breaking the trust he'd built up between you and himself. The shaking and the spiraling were involuntary, which only made you frustrated that you couldn't control it. Zed could sense that frustration in you and did his best to keep you soothed.</p><p>        "You just gotta keep remembering that none of this is your fault. Can't blame ya for any of it, really. Take a breath, doll. Don't want'cha to work yourself up into a tizzy," Zed had once responded when you'd vented to him about these frustrations.  </p><p>         Still, even with his reassuring words, you still felt bad, realizing that it was mostly your own fault your time with him was so prolonged. But then again, having him tend to you wasn't the worst thing in the world. So maybe you didn't mind as much as you thought you did. Zed had been very gentle while checking on your wounds--more gentle than you imagined a man of his size and obvious strength to be. You trusted him more with every passing day. Soon he was able to examine your body and recheck healing wounds without having to narrate his every intent and action. You didn't think it was a big deal. Zed was rather proud of the massive amount of progress he'd made with you in such a short time.</p><p>        You began to open up more to him. It'd been so long since you'd been able to really talk with anyone. There wasn't much conversation to be found with psychos and bandits. Just lots of screaming and snarling and threats. The more you spoke to him the more you found yourself remembering things from your life before being enslaved. Things that had made you you, things that had brought thrill to your life. Things that helped you remember that you had been something before everything that happened. It made you hopeful that you could be that person again. Or at least, you could try to be that person again. Either way, it was nice to hope for something again. It was nice to feel things like hope again.</p><p>        Soon you couldn't even imagine your day without Zed in it. Not only did he seem to listen--very intently at that--to you when you talked to him but he seemed to actually enjoy your company as well. You couldn't help but like him more and more, and even found yourself excited to see him when the curtain separating your side of the clinic from the other swept to the side. </p><p>        You even found that talking to the doctor through your treatments and examinations actually helped take your mind off being touched and the ingrained aversion you had to it. But, with every passing day, even that weight felt less and less heavy in your chest and gut. Zed had been very pleased when for the first time ever, your muscles stayed relaxed under his touch.</p><p>        "You're not shakin'," he told you, suddenly, looking up at you.</p><p>        You fell quiet for a moment, your mouth still partly open. You closed it, blinking, almost confused for a few moments. Zed was right. You weren't trembling anymore. You did a double take, your hand suddenly on top of his. His hand had been on your shoulder. You pushed his hand into your skin slightly harder, like you couldn't believe it. Still no signs of sudden shaking. A huge smile appeared on your face as you turned your head to look up at Zed once more.</p><p>        "Yeah. I guess you're right."  </p><p>        Your hand was still on top of his. Your fingers had tightened slightly between his. You quickly realized and pulled away quickly, giving a nervous laugh. Zed pretended not to notice and continued changing the bandages on your arm. Your face had to have been bright red, judging by how hot your cheeks felt. Thank God he was too focused on his work to look at you again. </p><p>        More incidents like these happened. A soft, unexpected touch, maybe a stray glance between the two of you. You wondered if you only were noticing it all now, or if it had always been happening. Were you reading too much into it? Was it weird to constantly have your mind on him? Was it weird to think about the way the lights in the room carved into his face? Was it weird to think about the baritone in his voice whenever he spoke to you--whenever he spoke in general? Was it weird to wonder if he thought about you as often as you thought about him?</p><p>        It wasn't all your fault, you were sure. He was the only other person you had to talk to and interact with. He was the only man you ever found yourself...liking. Maybe even loving. In such a long time. No that was too serious. This was just a crush. A crush on some guy that was just doing his job and was just being nice to you. That's it.</p><p>        That's it.</p><p>        Those words still disappointed you, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.</p><p>        You expected all these sudden feelings of adoration to leave you or fizzle out soon. But if anything they only grew stronger with Zed's constant presence. You figured that once you were released from his care you could stomp out the crush. You trusted him. Completely. It'd been the first time in a long, long time that you had truly trusted someone with no doubts, with no hindrance in your mind, with no second guessing or paranoid ideas. Your mind was at peace when it came to Zed Blanco. And that would make it hurt worse if you really were reading into this too much.</p><p>        Once you left, it'd go away. You'd die before you'd confront him, much less confess. There was no point in taking a chance anyways. </p><p>        That had been your plan at least.</p><p>        Up until the day you were completely healed up.</p><p>        You'd known the day would eventually come. Zed had told you many times rough estimates for your release. He was under the impression you were looking forwards to it. But now that it was here, all the sudden it didn't feel real. But here you were, sitting upon the examination table, brand new shirt and pants laying by your side (courtesy of Zed), as he took off the cast around your ankle and the last of the bandages.</p><p>        Just when the last white strip had swept off your skin, there was a strange moment.</p><p>        Like a finality of everything. </p><p>        You'd stood up off the examination table. </p><p>        You'd looked up at Zed.</p><p>        And all the sudden you couldn't stop yourself.</p><p>        "I like you Zed. Like...a lot."     </p><p>        The thought of doing something you'd always wanted to crossed your mind.        </p><p>        Fuck it. </p><p>        You'd leaned into him suddenly, reaching up to shift his mask down. On the tips of your toes, you reached up and kissed him. He let you, even as he tensed under your touch, leaning back into you as well, almost enough to bowl you over. One hand went to your hip, and another to the small of your back. He pushed you back up against the examination table, his lips rough against yours. His stubble scratched beneath your fingertips as you held his face in your hands. The doctor's own hands moved to your waist, leaning you back over the table. His lips touched against the scars on your neck.</p><p>         And all the sudden, he pulled away, shaking his head. His hand went to his mouth. </p><p>        Zed spoke, his voice low behind his fingers. "No. Can't do that to you. I'm not gonna let you do that." </p><p>        He felt a wave of intense guilt settle into him. What the fuck was he thinking? Enabling you after everything you'd gone through. Possibly reopening the psychological wounds you'd made such slow progress in covering up. The scars under his lips reminded him of all that. He didn't think you had your head on straight. You weren't thinking straight. And he certainly didn't think you were ready for something like this.</p><p>        But his hand still stayed upon your body. Like he couldn't go through with whatever act of nobility he was trying to commit to. Still, the sudden rejection stung you. And you were still shivering in anticipation. To say you were confused both emotionally and physically was a bit of an understatement. It took you a few moments to figure out what to say next.</p><p>        "What do you mean?" you asked him, your voice apparently rising with distress. "What are you talking about?" Your agitation was becoming obvious to Zed. </p><p>        "Aw, it's nothin', don't take it like that, darlin'...it's just...you're shakin' again-"</p><p>        "Because I want you," you cried out, pulling both of your hands back and up to your own face, hiding your flushing skin behind them. The weight of your words only set in after you shouted them and it only embarrassed you more. </p><p>        Zed cleared his throat, sounding equally as flustered, before he replied. "Now I know that's what you might be feelin' right at this moment but I don't think you're ready for somethin' like this."</p><p>        You didn't know why, but you only felt compelled to want him more. You thought you were going to burn up alive. </p><p>        "I don't care what you think!" you snapped. Your throat felt tight and the corners of your eyes stung.</p><p>        How you weren't completely broken down in tears yet was beyond you. Gently, one of Zed's hands crept up your arm and to your wrist. He moved your hand from your face and took you by the chin. He looked you right in the eyes.</p><p>        "Look at me. Look at me. I wanna do things to you. No way around that. Gotta get that out there. I fancy you just the same. But I ain't gonna ruin you. I don't want to. Even if you think you want me to. I can't do that to you. It ain't right."</p><p>        "Zed," you managed to get out. "You can't ruin me. You won't. You think that I'm not ready, that I can't handle having sex with anyone. Even you. But you're different from the men who hurt me and abused me. You're not them. And you never could be. S-So stop acting like you're anything like them--like you'd ever be capable of the things they did to me." Zed opened his mouth to interject, but you pushed a hand over his mouth suddenly, rendering him quiet again. "No. It's my turn. I looked. Now you listen. Listen. Listen to me." You took a breath. Your hand shifted to his cheek, holding it gently. His larger hand pressed overtop yours as you continued, your voice growing softer. "It’s okay. I want to do this...with you. You’re so...gentle and kind to me. You've done nothing but help me, through all my highs and lows. You've had endless patience for me. You've put so much of your time into me...”</p><p>        “There’s other ways to go about bein’ grateful, darlin’,” protested Zed, his own voice lowering to match the volume of yours. He looked at you through those grey-green eyes of his, looking exasperated but...full of desire all the same as yours. It gave you the strength to continue on.</p><p>        “You...you made me feel things. Good things. For the first time in what feels like forever. They took everything from me, Zed. My dignity, my innocence, my body. They took everything. They made me a fucking animal. But...but you make me feel. You cared. And all the sudden there was something for me outside of the hell I'd been made to think I belonged in. Zed, you make me feel human again. And-and that's why I want to do this. With you. No one else... Please. I know you won’t hurt me.”</p><p>        Your arms had intertwined in some graceful way along his heavy, well muscled ones, your hands at his biceps as you spilled your heart out to him. He had no words. He could only come closer, somewhat starstruck still by your words, when he felt you tug on him slightly. A bit of a grunt escaped him as you locked your legs around him as well, reaching your arms up. Your fingertips traced along his thick neck, going to the back of his head. </p><p>        They way you looked up at him, eyes all trusting and full of adoration and want—he couldn’t help himself.</p><p>        He couldn't help but believe every word you had said. </p><p>        And he couldn't help but reflect your intensity. </p><p>        The doctor’s hands stroked up the sides of your thighs, pressing you more up against him to steady you. </p><p>        He had started to go slow, stiff in all of his muscles. You could tell he was ready to bail at any minute you gave the word. But you wanted him to enjoy it. You wanted him to enjoy you so you could enjoy him. Your arms tightened over his shoulders as you brought your face to rest in the crook of his neck. His grizzled cheek rubbed against your skin and you let out soft, shaking sigh.</p><p>        ”Zed, please. I need you so bad. I want you...s-so bad.”</p><p>        He was so close to you. At some point, he’d lowered his pants and his boxers without you not noticing. He was so close to being in you. You let out a bit of a needy whine—something that really seemed to drive him almost as wild as you. His hands went tighter around your hips.</p><p>        Even though his arousal was as plain as your own, Zed went slow. You could tell he was still wary of hurting you in any way. But you wanted him to know it was okay. You brought your hands to his cheeks as you pulled him into another kiss. Apparently, it encouraged him enough for him to strip you of your underwear. One of his hands went to your inner thigh, hot against your skin. His lips muffled your soft moan and he couldn’t hold back any longer.</p><p>        Although his hips moved slow, you found the sheerest of pleasure in each little movement. For the briefest of moments you couldn’t help but reflect on how every desire you had was about to be fulfilled. You felt warm. He was warm. Your lips trailed along his neck, a soft moan between each of your kisses, the sound of his name in your mouth. </p><p>        You were happy. Happy with him.</p><p>        He was gentle. So gentle. He made you feel wanted, treasured, cared for. Safe. </p><p>        Your arms had fallen in graceful form above your head, allowing him full access to any part of your body he so desired. He hesitated before indulging, one of his hands reaching to your chest.</p><p>        You couldn't have ignored the logic in his previous protests. Even you were a bit surprised that you hadn't suddenly collapsed into a pile of nerves and fear. For the briefest of moments, you were worried you'd regret this. But then it was gone, drowned out by the rush of euphoric bliss running up your nerves. You trusted Zed. </p><p>        You felt his fingers from the hand on your chest reach up and intertwine with your own. His larger body blocked out the light above you. You didn't mind. One of his arms curled under your back, shifting you in a position that seemed to be more comfortable to him with a low grunt. </p><p>        "Zed..."</p><p>        His name was soft on your lips and close to his ears and it seemed to encourage him even more. </p><p>        Still, he checked on you often, almost the point of annoyance. He would nudge your cheek, pulling you out of your eyes half-shut, dream-like state. God, why did he feel so good? It was that sort of tenderness he handled you with, maybe. Touch like that you hadn't known before.</p><p>         He seemed to take any silence on your end as troubling. But you didn't mind making some noise for him. Especially if it kept him going like this...</p><p>        But you knew the bliss wouldn't stretch on for much longer. His breathing was heavy, matched with yours, as your hands left the metal of the examination table. His fingers fell away from yours as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling yourself up and closer to him. He let out a bit of a grunt as he supported your body against his. </p><p>        You feared you would dread him when it was all over. </p><p>        But as you finished and he followed suit, you felt no sort of malice towards him. No disgust. No regret.</p><p>        Just a buzzing ghost of pleasure--the idea of his hands still on your body. A sort of relief too. You let out a heavy, satisfied sigh as he set you back atop the examination table. Your arms and legs were trembling slightly. </p><p>        "Are you-" Zed began, that same worried tone in his voice.</p><p>        "No, no," you said quickly, cutting him off before he could start to feel bad. Your blush became a bit more furious on your face as you cleared you throat and averted eye contact with him, unable to hide a bit of an embarrassed, shameful smile. "You were just...you...you felt really good." </p><p>        "No shame in enjoying what Dr. Zed has to offer ya," he commented, actually sounding somewhat pleased with himself as he shifted his boxers and the bottoms of his scrubs back up, still a little low across his hips. </p><p>        You nodded, your gaze still averted, falling silent. Your smile disappeared.</p><p>        "Lookin' troubled again, doll..." Zed said. He tilted your chin up. And he kissed you, slowly, softly. </p><p>        "I...I don't wanna leave," you eventually said, looking as though you were about to burst into tears. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your head in the crook of his neck, cementing your point. "I know I'm all better and you fixed me but...I just...I don't know..."</p><p>        "Then stay."     </p>
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